


Tripping Extras

by Hatteress (goddammitstacey)



Series: Tripping Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby is a giant softie, God is a voyeur, Jo knows how to fantasise like woah, M/M, Sam really wishes he wasn't, Shmoop, Vessel Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:29:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddammitstacey/pseuds/Hatteress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of deleted/extra scenes from 'Tripping'. Featuring Cas the pervy voyeur, Bobby cursing heavy sleepers and Jimmy realising just how lucky his is not to remember his time as a Vessel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good Student

Castiel made a point of staying out of Dean and Sam's heads. He'd learned the hard way how the brothers viewed his habit of peeking into the minds of those around him and so, to save further disagreements, he kept his ability to himself. It was a courtesy he did not extend to most. Bobby, Jo and Ellen had earned a place on his non-watch list simply because Dean tended to have an uncanny ability to tell when he was doing his 'creepy invasion of privacy thing' - Dean's words of course - and had taken to glaring at him when it happened in his presence.

The day following the Truth or Dare episode though, Castiel had been out of sorts. A hangover Dean and Sam had called it. Whatever it was, it had been far from pleasant and had played absolute havoc with his control. Glimpsing Jo's mind while waiting with her in Ellen’s car had been an accident. Not immediately backtracking out of it...well, that...wasn't.

Reading minds was a lot like trying to read a book with moving letters. Nothing stayed static and words tended to change as one was looking at them. Castiel however, was rather good at deciphering the chaos. A mellenia of practice had ensured it. That he didn't have to as he watched the scene playing out in Jo's mind was a little disconcerting. Only true focus made the picture so clear. And this picture was like crystal.

At first Castiel thought he was seeing the memory of the night before played out. Most of it was the same - him as he strode across the study towards Dean, Dean's look of shock as he pulled the man out of his chair. Castiel didn't realise anything was amiss until the imaginary him didn't pull away from Dean for quite a bit longer than he remembered.

Frowning, Castiel mentally inched closer to the scene. It was only as Dean's hands, fisted in the other Castiel's trench coat tightened suddenly, pulling the other him closer that he realised he was viewing a very different version of events to those that had transpired. This wasn't a memory, this was...a fantasy.

He should have left then he knew; should have pulled his consciousness back and given Jo some measure of privacy but curiosity held him tight. He watched in interest as the other him moaned, releasing Dean's jacket to card his hands through the man's hair. This Dean seemed to like the action, arching against the other Castiel in a way that made the real Castiel swallow a little heavily despite himself.

He'd seen humans enjoy each other of course - it was an instinctual action; one born of the need to procreate. Logically Castiel knew that.

This though... Castiel watched as the imaginary him backed Dean up to the desk and pushed him down firmly - splaying the hunter across the surface before following him down. Castiel shifted. This was something entirely...different.

Castiel didn't know if it was because it was him and Dean he was watching - or rather him and Dean as imagined by Jo - but something about the display caused Castiel's heart to pound in his chest. He found his mouth going dry as he watched his imaginary self shed the ever present trench coat, Dean already working on the tie - yanking it from his collar with a harsh sound deep in his throat. The buttons were next, but not before the other Castiel sat up slightly, tugging Dean's t-shirt over his head, their kiss broken for but a moment. The other Castiel's shirt was next, slid back off his shoulders by hands that couldn't seem to stop teasing and clutching at skin.

Castiel couldn't help noticing it was rather well imagined skin too. Jo knew Dean well, that much was evident in her rendering of him. Castiel himself had seen the hunter in various states of undress in the time he'd known him and so he could tell Jo's version was almost spot on. What he found surprising however, was how accurate she was with his own physical form. 

He watched as the muscles played across the imaginary Castiel's back - Dean's hands intermittently clutching and smoothing across them. It was an admirable depiction. Something which made watching what was happening all the more surreal.

Castiel watched as Dean arched up off the desk, a harsh moan escaping his lips as the Castiel atop him trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses down his throat before he - Castiel's eyes widened - before he bit into the curve of the hunters neck. The gasp this elicited from the imaginary Dean was one that hit Castiel somewhere low in his belly, a rather sharp sensation that threw him back to the feel of his and Dean's first kiss.

"Fuck...Cas..." the imaginary Dean swore and Castiel found himself startled at the sound of the voice: deep, undone and...saying his name. For some reason that was paramount. He certainly hadn't been able to forget it since.

It was about at that point that Jo's mother had interrupted her daughter's train of thought, pulling the girl out of her fantasy and back into reality and so dumping Castiel back into awareness as well. 

He'd spent the remainder of the trip with them keeping his mind tightly to himself, fighting the curiosity that urged him to take a peek; just one peek back into the girl's head. He had held strong.

His control following that day was not so solid.

Castiel had always monitored the thoughts of those around him. It was an automatic process that usually ran beneath his notice. Now though...now every time he caught a glimpse of someone picturing he and Dean he often paused to take a closer look. The number of carnal fantasies he stumbled upon was almost ludicrous.

It was also mildly…curious. Castiel found himself intrigued despite his better judgement. He had always been a student of learning, and most of the knowledge he’d gained of earth he’d done so with the use of his mind-reading. He told himself this was no different - just another form of human interaction he was trying to understand.

Of course no other human interaction made his breath grow short and his palms tingle strangely - like it was his own hands running over the planes of Dean’s body and not just a stranger’s imaginings.

But Castiel chose to ignore this. And he watched. And he learned.

Because Castiel was nothing if not a good student.


	2. Idjits

Bobby would forever curse Dean's uncanny ability to wake at the blink of an eye when a monster was trying to sneak into one of the brothers' random motel rooms but completely and entirely ignore Bobby banging heartily on his own damn door.

"Boy, don't make me come in there!" he bellowed. The 'please' was left to echo in his own head. 

His current predicament was his own damn fault of course. Still high on Crowley's revelation that morning that he'd gained his legs back he'd jumped - quite literally - at the chance to climb the stairs to fetch Dean and Cas.

And in all fairness it wasn’t exactly like he could say he hadn’t known what he’d find. There was no great mystery to what the pair of them had been getting up to the night before - Bobby's ramshackle and far from soundproof walls had made sure of that. Hell, he and Sam had spent the majority of the evening out on the porch because of it, drinking beer and talking very loudly about everything that wasn't what was going on upstairs.

Yes, Bobby had been quite happy to ignore the goings on in his spare bedroom. Of course the fact he _still_ had yet to get an answer to his bashing on the door was going to make that a mite difficult to keep up. Dammit.

One more round of banging went unheeded before, with a self-depreciating huff, Bobby gave in and pushed open the door. The way he figured it he'd seen plenty of Dean when the boy was ten and going through his streaking phase - not to mention the number of times he'd had to patch the idjit up from a bad hunt - this would be no different.

He was wrong. So very, _very_ wrong.

It was a fond and recurring memory of Bobby's - shuffling from the kitchen, coffee in hand to find one Winchester boy spread uniform-like out on the floor, pillow tucked demurely under a head of increasingly shaggy hair while the other treated his couch like an unconscious obstacle course. 

Dean had always slept like an overgrown puppy missing it's pile, all sprawling limbs and, more often than not, drool. The boy was always clutching something too - a pillow or his jacket or, on one memorable occasion, Bobby's old dog Rumsfeld before the poor mutt had passed on. He supposed he really shouldn't have been surprised to discover Dean clutched at people as surely as he clutched inanimate objects (or canines) in his sleep. Cas as one of those people was just sorta...odd though.

There was no explicit nakedness to be seen thankfully - where the blanket didn't do its job the myriad tangle of limbs obscured the rest. And a tangle it was. Dean had managed, in his own individual way to wind himself completely around the damn angel 'til the only thing telling them apart was the difference in skin-tone. Not that Cas was much better. As Bobby watched the angel shifted, stretching slightly before turning and burrowing his head up and under Dean's chin like he was a flippin' cat seeking warmth.

It was a scene set to have Bobby's teeth rotting.

Even so, Bobby couldn't deny the little shot of warmth in his veins as he looked at the pair. Dean had always been an insufferable moron when it came to his own happiness - hell, the boy had an uncanny ability to make Bobby want to throttle him for his seemingly never-ending habit of self-sacrifice. More often than not it led to misery for the now-oldest Winchester. This though - this whatever it was with Cas - it seemed to make Dean happier than Bobby had seen him in a good long while. To that end, it was good. Still flippin' bloody weird in Bobby's opinion, but good.

He showed his opinion the only way he knew how. The bucket of cold water he upended over their heads a few minutes later was an _approving_ bucket of cold water.


	3. Permission

The night Castiel came to him was the same night Jimmy fell asleep watching the sci-fi channel. This was something he would find stupidly amusing upon hindsight.

The dream was his usual. He was slouched in a deck-chair, the fishing rod familiar and solid in his hands. He knew without turning that the jetty stretched back behind him just as the glass-surfaced water blanketed his front. It was a peaceful scene; tranquil.

It also wasn't his.

He'd come to understand quite early into his regaining his own body that bits of Castiel had remained with him. Certain mannerisms, certain ticks. It should have upset him – Lord knew Amelia hadn't reacted well to the explanation of why he apparently now liked the taste of beer despite swearing off the stuff when he was a teenager. But Jimmy himself just found the knowledge...trivial. With all he'd been through the past two years he just couldn't really get up the enthusiasm to be properly annoyed at the small reminders left behind.

The dreams, though – they were just strange. Because while the closest he'd ever come to holding a fishing pole was walking past the sporting-goods store in the local mall, he sure as heck didn't think Castiel had been any closer. It really begged the question of exactly _whose_ dream he was living on nights like these.

Still, it could have been worse. The dream really was peaceful. Flat, untouched water and a sweet breeze – his twin in a trench-coat standing beside him-

“Fuck!” Jimmy swore, all but dropping the fishing pole in his shock. And yeah, his vocabulary had become a lot more varied now too – Amelia just _loved_ that.

“Hello Jimmy,” Castiel said and Jimmy ground his teeth as he glared up at the angel. He didn't even have to ask to know that this was very much the real deal. Castiel had only ever spoken as a voice in his head before but there was something about his presence that struck a well-known cord.

“Castiel,” he greeted suspiciously.

It was true that they hadn't parted on bad terms. Jimmy still remembered, coming to himself on a strange street corner – stumbling a little as he regained control of his limbs. Then stumbling for an altogether different reason as Castiel had spoken in his head.

It had all been explained: the averted apocalypse – Sam and Dean Winchester's role in it all. Jimmy had listened with a numb sort of shock as Castiel described his actions – his rebellion from Heaven and subsequent two resurrections by God. Actual God. Jimmy had had to sit down at that point in the story.

Then Castiel had thanked him, assuring him that he and his family had earned his gratitude and thus his protection. It was the way he had said it, though - real and slightly stumbling - that had made Jimmy pause. While the words themselves were no different from anything he'd been told before, when Castiel had been, well – grooming him he supposed, to become a vessel – this time the words seemed to mean more. Like it wasn't just duty behind them this time – there was emotion too. Jimmy had had to wonder what exactly Castiel had been through the last year that made him sound so... human.

Looking upon the angel wearing his visage now, Jimmy wondered again. Because while he certainly carried himself vastly different than Jimmy did, there was something almost casual about the way Castiel had shoved his hands into the pockets of the old tan trench-coat. The same trench-coat Jimmy had scrunched into a ball and thrown into the back of his closet the first opportunity he’d gotten after Castiel's departure.

“What are you doing here?” Jimmy asked, voice wary. He watched as the angel wearing his face tipped his head, eyes serious upon the landscape.

“I have not come to re-take you as a Vessel,” Castiel assured and Jimmy really couldn't deny that that had been his biggest fear right then.

Breathing a little easier, he nodded as he got to his feet – something about this encounter encouraging him onto a somewhat level playing field. Castiel's eyes ticked to him as he did and Jimmy noticed as his gaze swept over his body – something in the angel's eyes seeming almost... disconcerted. Like God's warrior was seeing _himself_ instead of the other way around.

Jimmy frowned. “Is there a reason you're appearing to me looking like-” Jimmy swept a hand up, gesturing to Castiel's borrowed appearance, “- that?”

And he totally must have imagined that slight twitching of Castiel's lips. Because Castiel, forthright angel of the Lord certainly didn't... _smile_.

“I am...much changed,” Castiel admitted.

Jimmy's eyes widened. “That's _you_?” he asked incredulously. He severely regretted standing up when Castiel nodded - though thankfully, despite giving every indication that they were headed in that direction, his legs didn’t actually give out. “How is that possible?”

“It is unimportant,” Castiel answered, and while Jimmy personally thought it was very damn important, there was no missing the slight awkwardness to Castiel's tone – almost like the angel was embarrassed? Jesus Christ almighty. “I have come to ask a favour of you,” Castiel continued.

And now Jimmy really did want to sit down.

Even when Castiel had just been a voice in his head he'd never once requested anything as a _favour_. Rather it had been phrased as an opportunity – a chance to prove his faith and aid in the war against Hell. Pretty shitty opportunity, he now knew, but still... Having that same angel of the Lord before him now - wearing his face no less - as he asked a personal favour...

“Um...” Jimmy stammered. “Okay?”

“I wish to return to – to Earth,” Castiel said and there was absolutely no way Jimmy missed the tripping of the angel's words there – like he'd been going to say he'd wished to return to something much more specific. “But in order to do so I require a Vessel,” the angel continued.

Jimmy frowned. “You said-”

“I do not require your permission to take you as a Vessel,” Castiel interrupted. “I require your permission to make one.”

Jimmy blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I wish to fashion a Vessel in your image,” Castiel elaborated.

Jimmy's mind spun for a moment as he tried to grasp exactly what Castiel seemed to be asking him. “You want to... make a copy of me?”

“Of your physical form yes,” Castiel said, like they were discussing a choice in breakfast cereals and not a celestial form of cloning. “Your soul would remain yours.”

“And that would work?” Jimmy asked.

Castiel nodded seriously.

Jimmy scoffed lightly, raking a hand through his hair as he tried to grasp the enormity of the angel's request. Then of course a very simple, very slightly infuriating thought occurred to him. Jimmy's eyes narrowed. “Why couldn't you just do that before?”

Castiel's eyes remained serious upon his and it was probably the one thing that kept Jimmy from taking a swing just on principle.

“It was... against regulations,” Castiel explained, something in his voice inching slightly towards hesitancy. And Jimmy got the feeling it wasn't hesitancy about his own reaction – if there was one thing Castiel didn't seem afraid of, it was Jimmy's wrath. No, this was something very different.

“Why?” Jimmy asked. “Why was it against regulations?”

Jimmy watched as Castiel's eyes actually slid to the side as he answered. “It is considered wasteful to create a body for only one use-”

“Bull,” Jimmy cut him off, causing Castiel's eyes to snap back to his. “There's another reason.”

For a full moment Jimmy was afraid he was going to be struck down for disrespecting a warrior of God, Castiel's gaze serious upon his own. Then the angel actually _sighed_ \- a huff of breath that was so painfully human it made Jimmy blink in surprise.

“The human soul,” Castiel started, voice tripping into lecture mode. “It acts as a buffer when we take a vessel. Humanity is...” Jimmy watched incredulously as Castiel's lips twitched upward again, this time wryly. “... pervasive. Think of an empty vessel as a dry sponge. It would soak up everything an angel is – bind it to the physical form until such time as that form is destroyed.”

"It would make you mortal," Jimmy realised quietly.

Across from him Castiel's head tilted to the side like a curious puppy, and Jimmy found the action very alien. It was suddenly all too disconcerting to be faced with what he must have looked like while playing Vessel.

"In a manner of speaking," Castiel conceded. "The angel's power would remain intact, but its life on Earth would be transitional - bound to the fate of its Vessel."

"And bound to Earth?" Jimmy asked, frowning. "They wouldn't be able to return to Heaven?"

"Not of their own volition, no," Castiel agreed.

Right. Jimmy shook his head - like trying to shake the new knowledge into some semblance of order. “And now? What's to stop you getting attached to the Vessel you make now?”

Castiel blinked, like the answer was obvious. “Absolutely nothing.”

Jimmy's eyes widened. “Oh.”

Oh _shit_.

Jimmy stared wide-eyed at the angel before him - the angel who was about to give up Heaven for God only knew what… But no, that was wrong. Jimmy had a feeling he knew exactly why Castiel was doing what he was doing and it had everything to do with the way his own throat had closed up instinctively upon hearing Dean Winchester's voice on the phone a fortnight ago - like his damn body was remembering something he didn’t.

“You understand that if you do this... there's no going back," Jimmy said quietly, fixing Castiel with a serious gaze. "Humanity's messy and harsh and everything Heaven isn't.”

Castiel smiled a small smile. “It's also worth it.”

“You mean _he's_ worth it,” Jimmy corrected, and he knew he'd got it right the moment Castiel's eyes flickered just a little too quickly to his.

For a long second Castiel only stared at him. Finally, he nodded shortly. "That too."

Jesus fucking Christ, how the hell did Jimmy get himself into these situations? Huffing in a breath, he scrubbed his hands over his face - like he could scrub away the last two years. Or perhaps just the last two hours, because this was by far the most surreal of his experiences with celestial beings thus far. To find out that an angel of the Lord had not only fallen in love while wearing his body but fallen in love with a _man-_

Oh hell...

"You didn't... I mean you and he..." Jimmy tried only to abruptly shake his head in the face of Castiel's angelic head-quirk. "You know what? I don't want to know."

"Your body has been restored to the exact state it was in when I first took you as a vessel," Castiel assured. And Jimmy tried heartily to ignore the thread of amusement in the damn angel's voice that indicated that he knew EXACTLY what Jimmy had been worried about. And in knowing about it... Yeah - Jimmy just wasn't going to think about that at ALL.

"So-" Jimmy cleared his throat awkwardly. "You need my permission to make another me?"

"No, I don't need it," Castiel replied seriously and Jimmy blinked as Castiel shrugged - actually shrugged. "I simply thought you should have a say in matters pertaining to your form. I have come to understand just how... personal it is."

Dear Lord the angel had grown attached to his looks. Though Jimmy supposed that was rather apparent given Castiel’s current form.

"And if I say no?" he asked curiously only to regret it a moment later when a very real look of distress crossed Castiel's features. "Which I'm not," he hurriedly assured, only to freeze up at what he'd just unwittingly agreed to. "I mean - ah - "

"This is not a decision you can take back," Castiel told him quietly, voice as serious as his gaze. "Make it carefully."

Jimmy nodded, swallowing heavily as his eyes tracked out over the serenity of the landscape. And he almost let loose a bark of laughter when he realised exactly where Castiel must have picked up the scene to pass subconsciously onto him.

Dean Winchester. He had to wonder if the man even realised how much he'd touched Castiel. Though, remembering back to their stilted conversation and reading the brokenness in the Dean's voice with a lot more clarity, Jimmy had the feeling Castiel's emotions weren't exactly one-sided.

In the end it was that realisation that really made the decision for him. Amelia had always accused him of being a hopeless romantic and his wife had a tendency toward knowing him better than he even knew himself.

"Yes," he said finally. "I'll give you permission. Just-" Jimmy held a hand up as Castiel's expression lit up like a slightly stoic Christmas tree. "Just do me a favour?"

Castiel nodded, the seriousness tempered by his obvious happiness.

"Take the damn coat," Jimmy said. And Castiel, angel of the Lord and pain in Jimmy's ass, huffed a very un-angelic laugh.

The next morning Jimmy made a point of checking the back of his closet - just on the off chance it all really had been a dream. The lone, black feather he found in place of the coat made his lips twist into a wry smile that had Amelia shooting him uncertain looks all breakfast.


	4. Brotherly Limits

Sam loved his brother. There was no denying it. He would die for Dean just as surely as Dean had for him. He didn't really know if the devotion was a brothers thing or just a Winchester thing and in the end he supposed it didn't really matter. It was Dean.

That being said - dude, there were limits.

Now, granted, the moment Dean had unfrozen from the stupor he’d been stuck in since the first touch of Cas's lips and actually done something friggin' RIGHT for a change, Sam had cheered inside - right along with God, who was currently sharing his head. And so yeah, the situation was utterly ridiculous (as only standing invisibly in a corner while your brother very thoroughly chose to be gay with an angel could be) but Sam was getting used to the roller-coaster his life had become. Hell, he was sharing his brain with GOD; everything else seemed pretty tame by comparison.

But then things had gotten a little more serious. As in “Dean shoving Cas against the bench, hands already making fast work of the angel’s ever-present trench-coat” serious. And while Sam was happy for the two of them, really he was - there were just some things a brother didn’t need to see.

“Uh… God?”

It was a weird experience speaking to someone in his own head. Unlike Lucifer, God wasn’t so much a burning intrusion as a warm pressure; a heavy weight at the back of his brain that steered his body almost gently through its motions. Unlike Lucifer, too, God hadn’t ever gagged him. Sam had been able to speak freely inside his mind from the moment the deity had taken the reins. Not that it had done him much good.

The frigging Creator was having just a little too much fun with the whole ‘mysterious ways’ thing, in Sam’s opinion. Each time Sam had asked what was going on God had just tsked at him.

“Patience is a virtue,” the damn deity kept saying.

And each and every time Sam had sorta wanted to punch him a little, God or no.

And now this.

Sam flinched - actually _flinched_ inside his own head as Castiel moaned. One of Dean’s hands was fisted in the damn angel’s hair and with a sharp pull his brother had bared Cas’s throat just long enough to practically _attack_ it with his mouth. The other hand had disappeared somewhere between them - somewhere Sam really, REALLY didn’t want to know about - particularly when it caused Cas to make that brain-meltingly awful noise again.

“Dude!” Sam objected loudly.

“Hmm?” God spoke up, voice far too nonchalant for the current horror in Sam’s opinion.

“Can we _go_ ,” Sam begged hurriedly. “Please!”

Sam felt God’s smirk - which was a pretty surreal situation considering it was his own mouth doing it. “What?” God replied teasingly. “You don’t like to see your brother happy?”

Sam scowled, suddenly gaining an idea of where Gabriel had got his mischievous streak from. “Not THIS kind of happy, no,” he protested.

Of course Dean chose that moment to let out a ragged groan - and Sam didn’t really have a choice but to see as God looked up. Seriously, he could have gone his whole life without knowing his brother had a damn thing for biting thankyouverymuch.

“You’re absolutely no fun, Sammy,” God remarked, as Dean took the opportunity to grab twin handfuls of Cas’s shirt and manhandle the angel in the direction of the bed.

“Oh for the love of-” Sam stopped himself just in time, but God snorted with laughter anyway. Sam watched with growing dread as Cas and Dean did the universal stagger of couples everywhere too engaged in touching each other to do more than blindly aim for a horizontal surface.

“ _Please_ ,” he tried once more. Because Jesus freaking Christ he did not want to see what was about to happen. There was not even enough bleach in the whole damn world to wash his eyes of the sight of his brother and Cas doing what they were well on their way to doing.

Sam felt his own eyes roll. “Fine,” the deity huffed, and Sam had never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. “The arcade should be freeing up by now anyway.”

“Excellent!” Sam enthused. Granted, he would have been enthusiastic about escaping the motel room to go and swim through a tank of piranhas at this point, but whatever.

Not even the surreal reminder that God was a Skee Ball fan could put a dent in his relief as they zapped out of the room just as Cas and Dean hit the sheets.

**Author's Note:**

> For random ficcings and fangirling, check out my tumblr: [hatteress.tumblr.com](http://hatteress.tumblr.com)


End file.
